


Where the White Roses Grow

by depozyt



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Artificial Intelligence, Crushes, Dieselpunk, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Living Together, M/M, Muteness, Robots with feelings, The Nightingale retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 17:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21396082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depozyt/pseuds/depozyt
Summary: Minseok wished he could talk to the broken machines, consult them like a real doctor would.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: ExOnce Upon A Time: Round II





	Where the White Roses Grow

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was brought to you thanks to me binge-watching doll customisation videos, i wish i was kidding. also, i'm pretty sure it was my andersen obsessed ass who prompted this tale, so i don't even get to do that "dear prompter" thing :((( this is the fic equivalent of that essay you wrote the day it was due so don't expect much, dear reader.
> 
> TWs: mentions of death.
> 
> thank you to the mods who endured me changing prompts midway through the fest and then asking for extensions, you're amazing!!

Minseok met Jongdae at a garage sale. Well, "met" might be the wrong verb here, more like, he found Jongdae at a garage sale.

The flea market was buzzing with life, the vendors shouting over each other, trying to pique the interest of people passing by. It was a regular event in the city, a one that Minseok visited frequently both as a seller and as a buyer. In amidst of little booths with all possible types of honey, eye-catching handmade jewelry and people trying to resell vintage cutlery, there was a small section of the market pushed aside to the very back, a place where robot vendors, like himself, hung out. 

It was not his intention that day to go home with yet another android to repair, he already had done his job for the month and while the extra cash would come in handy, there was no guarantee this robot would work or sale for that matter. 

This one resembled more a doll, made to bring joy and entertainment to his owners, than a typical household robot, which was usually simplistically designed and easy to repair or replace. Minseok wasn't the type to nerd out about face molds, but he almost squealed when he saw this one. The robot was stunning, high cheekbones, curled up lips, and even with his cheeks dusty, some of the hair missing and the paint peeling off, revealing the cold metal underneath the soft looking skin, Minseok couldn’t look away. 

It must have been expensive back in the day. 

But right now it was mostly a, arguably, pretty pile of spare, still seamed together, parts which Minseok could use for another project. He didn't want to though. It would've been common sense to reappropriate this run-down machine for better use, it certainly would've been, Minseok told himself, but it also would've been a shame to destroy something so beautiful, so fragile. 

And it’s this sentiment that made him end up with his wallet a few thousand lighter, and with no other option than to transport the android by metro. To his surprise, no one really paid much attention to him and his new _ friend _, well, a few people looked at them funny, their curiosity probably getting better of them. Minseok was used to it though, it wasn’t unusual for him to walk home all dirty with motor oil stains on his shirt and his hands tainted black from the grease. After all, he’s been repairing beautiful and fancy androids, and simple household robots since he was a teenager. It was his job, but a passion too.

There was just something special in restoring robots that spoke to Minseok in a way that drawing or other types of craft didn't. It made him happy that he could help someone, _ repair someone _, kind of like a doctor would. Every time he looked at the inside of a broken robot, he felt challenged to make their life even a bit better.

Jongdae, as the name engraved on the android’s nape told Minseok, wasn’t too heavy to carry around. He was made with high-quality parts, yes, but they were also designed to be sleek and light, in every sense of the words. This meant that carrying him bridal style was the ideal means of transportation.

Just simply looking at the robot made Minseok all tingly and excited to be able to work on this piece of _ art _. Jongdae’s body was even more doll-like, the ball joints were carefully painted and smoothed out with seams and various openings barely visible at first glance. His skin was light and soft, and the few moles and freckles that were present on the robot’s body were painted with such precision that they didn’t subtract from the charm. 

Minseok's workshop was also his apartment. It wasn't that he lived in his workspace, but rather that his job found a way to seamlessly and imperceptibly settle into his one-bedroom apartment. His living room was filled with various tools and equipment, all carefully labeled and stored in their assigned places. The hammers, screwdrivers, and pliers hung on the walls, the nails, and screws could be found in labeled containers. And with the benefit of an open kitchen, Minseok rarely used his bedroom, preferring to spend the nights working on his projects. In fact, the mechanic wasn’t the type to leave his apartment often if it wasn’t related to his job in some way. 

As soon as they arrived home, Minseok laid down the broken android on the kitchen table, his legs dangling off of it. He looked… like he was just asleep, his eyes closed and expression calm. Well, that’s probably what it felt like for him too, Minseok thought idly. Like a really deep, dreamless sleep.

There was nothing else for him to do than to take the robot apart, see what’s wrong and try to fix it. The mechanic started with unscrewing the lid on Jongdae’s chest, carefully setting the bolts in specific containers as not to lose them later. The inside of the robot was dusty but not ruined, all the parts looked, maybe, not brand new, but surely not worn down and not like the likely cause of any of the systems not working. 

"This might take a while," Minseok sighed in the direction of the robot. "_ You _ might take a while." 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

The first thing Jongdae had ever felt was helplessness. His first memory was the feeling of rays of sunshine shining on his face, radiating pleasant heat, and of the sound of a man crying, sobbing almost, the sound distressing Jongdae. He was programmed to bring comfort and happiness, and right now he simply didn't know how he could do that. 

"What's wrong, sir?" he had asked back then, his voice soft, careful. The man's cries grew louder. 

"You really do sound just like him."

"I don't understand, sir," he said as the man embraced him, his tears leaving a wet patch on Jongdae's shirt. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

It had been two days and Minseok’s efforts to fix the robot were unsuccessful. He had replaced the battery, checked the electrical circuit more times than he could count, basically eliminated all common problems, and Jongdae still hasn’t spoken a word or moved a centimeter. It’s in moments like these Minseok wished he could talk to the broken machines, consult them like a real doctor would.

_ You say you have a stomach ache, it has to be the air pump then, yes… _ It’d definitely be easier this way.

But Jongdae had shut down, went into a comma to use a fitting analogy, and you can’t directly ask someone who’s unconscious what’s wrong with them, you have to guess and try, and try again. And at that time, Minseok was out of ideas.

Regardless, he stayed up all night, obsessively tinkering and double-checking everything, accompanied only by the sound of the radio in the background. He even resolved to rerouting the missing hair and repainting the face to pass the time. The same happened the next night and the next one too. 

Everything changed on the fifth day.

When Minseok woke up in the morning, it wasn’t with his head on the worktable and shoulders stiff and painful. He was laying on something far more comfortable, his couch. Sure, it was an old couch, it creaked and you could feel the springs, but after four nights of falling asleep in the sitting position, even that felt good. The problem was, he didn't remember falling asleep on the couch. Truth be told, his last memory was of him checking the oil pan again. 

And then, just as Minseok was about to open his eyes, he heard a noise. Someone was in his kitchen. 

It couldn't be Baekhyun, he didn't have the keys to his apartment anymore, and it definitely wasn't his mom since she was on vacation. What if… No, he still hadn't repaired Jongdae, no it couldn't be. 

But Minseok disregarded all his instincts screaming at him to pretend to still be asleep, and opened his eyes. There was a shirtless man standing in his small kitchen, preparing breakfast. At first, Minseok didn't recognize him, his head still fuzzy from sleep, but it only took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. 

Jongdae. 

It was Jongdae. 

Whatever he had done the previous night, it must've worked because the android looked fully functional. Minseok stumbled into his kitchen to take a closer look, almost tripping on the blanket he threw on the floor in the process. The robot looked at him mildly amused as he was putting the kettle onto the stove but didn’t break the awkward silence.

“Uhm–Hello Jongdae, I’m Minseok, the mechanic that repaired you,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. Jongdae acknowledged him by nodding in his direction and putting on a pleasant smile but still not saying a word. Weird.

“Is everything alright?” asked Minseok and the robot nodded in affirmation.

And after a few more moments of silence, Minseok might have just discovered what’s wrong with Jongdae. “You can’t talk, right?” 

The robot nodded again. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

“Jongdae, could you sing for me, please?” Mr. Kim gestured towards him, his smile distant and eyes glazed-over.

Jongdae obeyed his dying owner’s request even though his throat hurt and he knew, he just knew, it would be the very last thing he ever was going to sing for him. His vocal cords were worn down and in need of repair, but he still sang the lullaby as beautiful as he always had. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

Minseok's hunch was right. Jongdae couldn’t talk. Surely not by design, of course, but rather it was just something the mechanic had to fix, just the next thing to patch up.

After he ate the breakfast prepared by Jongdae, scrambled eggs, toast, and some really good coffee, Minseok decided to ask. 

"Can I look at your vocal cords? They must be worn out, I could replace them if you want, even today depending on the model," he said, attempting a friendly smile. 

Jongdae shook his head and made a face like Minseok had suggested something offensive or outright immoral to him. The mechanic was baffled. 

"Why not?" he asked and then realized Jongdae couldn't really answer. The robot just glared at him, annoyed. "Wait a minute," he said and went to his bedroom to look for a notebook and a pen, leaving Jongdae by the kitchen table. 

"_ I don't want to _," Jongdae wrote in the notebook Minseok handed to him. The mechanic refrained from repeating the question. 

It simply didn't make sense to him. Why wouldn't you want to fix something so minor? 

"Could you tell me why?" 

"_ It's none of your business _," Jongdae wrote, his messy handwriting making it difficult to decipher. 

Minseok decided not to push. The android's reaction was… odd, suspicious even, but there was nothing to be done. He could have asked him again, demand an explanation but it would only make Jongdae more hostile towards him and that should be avoided. 

The mechanic made an internal note to ask his guest later, possibly after they had a chance to get to know each other better, and promptly changed the topic. The first few days after Jongdae woke up were hard for both of them. Minseok was used to living alone, doing everything by himself without any help. Jongdae was on the other hand, despite his detailed and intricate design, made to take care of household chores and must’ve been previously owned by people happy to make use of that role. 

He did everything. From cooking the meals, cleaning, doing the laundry, watering the plants, to feeding the cat. And it drove Minseok up the wall. 

Jongdae was his guest, not house help, there was no need for him to do any of the things he did. Minseok could take care of himself, thank you very much, and while it was understandable that the android wanted to simply return the favor, Minseok did repair him after all, the mechanic had never wanted anything in return for his help. 

Sure, he had bought Jongdae with the intent of getting him back to shape, and then finding him a new home, but as the days passed he found himself more and more reluctant to follow up on this plan. He wanted the android to stay with him. 

If that was Jongdae’s wish as well, of course. Minseok didn’t know how to properly communicate with the beautiful robot. He tried demonstrating him that he could take care of himself, he woke up before Jongdae to make the breakfast himself, he vacuumed the floor, and watered his dear aloe vera alone. Jongdae’s reaction to these tries was best described as a silent annoyance. 

As it turned out, communication was difficult when one of the parties could only use a piece of paper and an old pen to respond. It didn’t lead to a lot of late-night conversations spanning hours on end. In fact, Minseok felt that the communication between him and Jongdae consisted mostly of his monologues. Jongdae didn’t say much.

He nodded or shook his head when Minseok asked a question, yes, but he never initiated the conversation, never talked about his past unprompted, never discussed his likes or dislikes. He was seen but not heard. And if their relationship wouldn’t improve in the following days, Minseok couldn’t justify trying to keep Jongdae around. He would have to follow up on his plan and find the android a new home, a place where he could actually be happy. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

It couldn’t have been more than three weeks since Minseok had managed to repair Jongdae. He had just got back from a job, one of Chanyeol’s androids, Sehun, had problems with one of his arms. Minseok did what he could to revive the military-grade part, but in the end, he had to ask around different shops to find a replacement. Sehun was scheduled for the next day to complete the repair. 

“I got you the books you wanted,” he said to Jongdae after coming home later than usual, a grocery bag in his hand and a backpack full of library books already taken off and laying on the living room floor. The android was quite a reader, and after burning through Minseok’s modest home library, he started asking Minseok to take him to their local town library. 

The mechanic happily obliged. Minseok figured out it might be a “good bonding activity”, or in less lame terms, a great way to spend time with your friend? Potential crush? 

He didn’t know how to rationalize and acknowledge his feelings for Jongdae. And he didn’t feel like he had to acknowledge them in any way. After all, Jongdae might not reciprocate them, ever, and while Minseok knew he’d get hurt by the inevitable rejection, platonic or romantic, he wanted to prolong this state of ignorance. He hadn’t felt like this about someone in months–years even. It felt good to take care of someone.

Besides, as it turned out, books gave them a topic to discuss, to bond over. Jongdae was quite opinionated, and expressing criticism came way easier for him than it ever did to Minseok. This meant that their “discussions” consisted mostly of Jongdae furiously scribbling in his notebook, explaining to Minseok why the culprit couldn’t have committed the crime, and why the plot twist the book author tried to pull off didn’t make sense. 

Minseok loved to read those rants. It made him feel warm inside to see Jongdae so invested in something, even if their interest didn’t match. The android was always so excited to get to experience another story, and Minseok was ready to read all of the penny dreadful series he could get his hands on just to make him happy.

That’s why Minseok started to worry when Jongdae didn’t greet him at the doors and immediately went through his backpack. It wasn’t normal. 

The mechanic checked the kitchen, and knocked on the bathroom door, Jongdae was not there. Minseok knew the android was an adult, Jongdae could go anywhere he wanted, but it still made him worry since he didn’t even leave a note. Minseok opened the door to his bedroom. Jongdae was laying on the floor, motionless. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

Jongdae was shaking. He could feel his parts rattling inside. His owner was dead.

He was dead and Jongdae was free. What a horrifying realization.

Mr. Kim died in the early morning after a heart attack. Jongdae couldn't do anything. He had called an ambulance mere seconds after it happened and still, it just wasn't enough, his owner had died before the paramedics could arrive; there wasn't anything else he could have done.

"Did the deceased have any family?" Jongdae overheard one of them ask.

"Not that we know of, why are you asking?" 

"Well, what are we going to do with, you know–the robot?" The paramedic nodded in Jongdae’s direction. She sounded vaguely concerned. 

"It's not our problem, is it?"

⚙️⚙️⚙️

Minseok rushed over to the android. He didn’t waste time trying to carry him to the work table, he started repairing him there, on his bedroom floor. A little dramatic, yes, but a completely understandable reaction to seeing someone you care about unconscious. The mechanic took a deep breath and unscrewed the lid on Jongdae’s chest, scared to see what’s inside. 

To his surprise it wasn’t anything serious, just one of the batteries was overcharging the electrical circuit, which in turn made the system shut off. Of course, it wasn’t ideal, something like this wouldn’t have happened if all of Jongdae’s parts were working properly. Androids were a lot like humans in this regard, if one thing stopped working, it could easily lead to another breaking or straining. 

Minseok felt guilty as he unscrewed the flap on Jongdae’s throat. He knew he shouldn’t be doing it. But he wanted to help Jongdae and this seemed like the only way to ensure something like this wouldn't happen again. Jongdae should be able to talk and Minseok knew how to fix it, it didn’t feel right to pretend otherwise, just like he had been doing for the past few weeks. Minseok was ready to see Jongdae angry after he was done with this repair, what he was doing wasn’t right since he was consciously ignoring Jongdae’s decision, but Jongdae was actively hurting himself this way. And it pained Minseok to see that, to allow that. 

A good doctor, or a mechanic in this case, wouldn't allow this situation to continue, and Minseok liked to believe he was good to Jongdae. Or, at the very least, he wanted to be.

The little lid opened with a quiet ping, the inner wall was engraved like an identity disc, Minseok took a closer look. But what was written inside wasn’t Jongdae’s model or date of production, no, it was someone’s memorial. 

Minseok immediately closed the lid and turned Jongdae on. He could feel his heart pounding, his blood rustling through his veins in an anxious race.

Jongdae opened his eyes and looked right at Minseok. “_ You saw it, right _ ?” he wrote in the notebook he pulled from his back pocket. Minseok nodded. “ _ You saw everything. _”

Minseok pulled him into a hug, he could feel Jongdae shaking and clutching to his shirt.

⚙️⚙️⚙️

Some time had passed before Jongdae calmed down. When he finally stopped shaking, it was already dark outside and Minseok couldn't really bring himself to let go of his hand. They just sat there on the floor in Minseok’s bedroom without saying a word.

"I feel awful, Dae. I shouldn't have looked," Minseok finally broke the silence while combing through Jongdae's hair with his free hand. "I'm so sorry." He could feel the tears prickling in his eyes. It was his fault.

"_ You really shouldn't have, _" Jongdae wrote, the words made Minseok's heart ache in a way he never knew before. He had to make this right.

"I know." Minseok looked directly at him and squeezed his hand. "I was just worried… You know that if one of your parts isn't working properly, you can shut down at any time, right?" 

Jongdae shook his head.

"You weren't really designed to work without you using your voice, Dae. If it's broken, the circuit gets easily overcharged." Minseok sighed. "Of course, I could probably work around that–" Minseok began but the android started writing in his notebook.

“_ Please repair me, _ ” Jongdae wrote, the letters barely visible in the dim light. “ _ I think I’m ready. _”

“Oh–Dae don't feel pressured,” Minseok said sitting up. “You really don’t have to.”

“_ I know _ ,” Jongdae wrote in response, giving Minseok a weak but genuine smile. “ _ But I want to. For myself, and for you too. _” 

Minseok blinked in surprise. He quickly took the android’s hand again, and led him through the apartment him to the worktable.

“Please lay down, Dae. It’s gonna take only a few minutes,” he said, his voice slightly shaky, as Jongdae laid down on the table, his legs awkwardly dangling off. Minseok was instantly reminded of the first day he saw him, the day he brought Jongdae home to repair him. Except right now Jongdae was awake and looking at him with the expression of absolute trust, and Minseok felt like he could cry from fondness. 

The mechanic pushed down a button on the back of Jongdae’s neck and the little flap on his throat opened with a pop. He only glanced at the engraved memorial, the mere sight making him uncomfortable. Minseok really didn't want to make Jongdae live with that voice any day longer, it seemed cruel and unnecessary, especially when he knew a way to fix it, to permanently change it.

"Dae, can I modify your vocal cords?" he asked. "I know how to do it." 

The android hesitated for a moment, clearly contemplating the question. Minseok wasn't sure about it himself, it was Jongdae's body after all, it was his decision to make and Minseok could only do as the android said. 

"Okay, good," Minseok cleared his throat, "Do you want to sound any particular way?" Jongdae gestured at the notebook.

“_ Make my voice different, that’s all I ask for, _ ” he wrote. “ _ You’ll do amazing, I’m sure. _” Jongdae smiled at him.

Minseok hesitated. “I’ll turn you off now, okay?” The mechanic put his finger on the concealed button on Jongdae’s nape. “Count to three with me,” he said, looking at the android’s lips as he silently repeated the numbers after him. Minseok pressed down at three and Jongdae’s eyes fell shut. 

⚙️⚙️⚙️

Minseok turned around onto his side, he couldn’t fall asleep. He had been fidgeting and changing positions for at least an hour and nothing seemed to help. He had read that you shouldn't try to force yourself to sleep, but he knew that if he stood up and found himself something else to do, Jongdae would probably murder him. The mechanic was too scared to look at the clock.

“Why am I the one who’s the most affected by your messed up sleeping schedule?” Jongdae mumbled into his pillow from his personal blanket burrito. “You can just take a nap in the middle of the day, that’s unfair,” he whined as he pulled Minseok into a hug, effectively trapping him. 

“Sorry,” Minseok said, feeling genuinely bad for the android. Jongdae had to go to work tomorrow. “I can go to sleep on the couch if you want to.”

“Nooo,” Jongdae protested and tightened his arms around his waist. “You’re staying here, you’re too warm, and I’m gonna lull you to sleep like the big baby you are,” he said, his breath tickling Minseok against his neck. 

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I’ll sing you a lullaby, you dummy,” he chuckled. "Please, try to relax, okay?" 

Jongdae began singing a quiet, rhythmical tune, his voice calm and lilting. Minseok tried to pay attention to the words at first, but they quickly turned into a pleasant, comforting background noise.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! and thanks for reading this far! i hope this mess was at least a little bit enjoyable (x_x)


End file.
